Kite surfing

There are so many different summer sports involving a board and a sail or a kite I'm not sure of the correct title of each.  Or it might be that different people use different titles.  Either way I had been watching a lone figure having what looked to be a wonderful time riding his board, harnessing the wind through a parachute type kite, shooting over the waves, propelled along at speed.  I call it kite surfing.

He'd been whipping back and forth across the bay, and then I lost sight of him.  A little while later he appeared trudging up the beach his kite/sail still flapping in the wind.  He stopped just short of where we were gathered to deflate the kite completely.

And then he trudged on past us.  Maybe I was imagining it but he looked tired but happy to me.

The weather has been sunny but quite windy, perfect for his particular sport.

 I'm linking to Betty's My Corner of the World.

 

Just add a child

There was a child in the house, just in time for Christmas!  My grandson arrived, oh and his parents too, but it's the child that had been the missing ingredient.  

I tell him Santa Claus was granted an exemption to come to NZ and he did try to look like he believed all that nonsense to keep me happy.  

He's a thoughtful child and I think he realizes how lucky we are to be able to relax with our loved ones, to be able to gather freely, go wherever we please, hug whomever we please.

Nothing better than being woken on Christmas Day to a hug from a young one before you've even combed your hair.  To be fair it does look like he's more of a hugee but he wasn't complaining.

We saw most of the family on Christmas Day but when there's a farmer in the family you accept sometimes other things take priority.  Water pump problems in summer can't be put off to another day.  Luckily a temporary fix was possible and it was a full muster on Boxing Day.

A catch up with the missing sibling, my younger son in Brasil.  We all miss him so much at times like this.  How we'd love to have his little family with us one day.

The cooks allowed a brief respite from kitchen duties to say hello to their brother.

Cricket on the lawn before lunch.

Uninterested in cricket, my great granddaughter, Lexis has some quiet time in the garden clutching on to her favourite gift, a toy guitar.

 Cricket at the beach after lunch.

Time to strike a pose and point the toes for family photos.

And for little Lexis to learn about the annual silly photo.

I love Christmas.  I wonder what the year between this one and the next will bring.  My prayer is I will get to meet my 8 month old Brazillian grand-daughter and get to hug my younger son again.

This is my favourite Christmas photo.  My younger daughter playing a happy tune on Lexis' toy guitar.  Oops, I should have cropped out that pair of feet.  I think they belong to Rose, my grandson's girlfriend.

Two more sleeps

I often I think the best part about Christmas is the anticipation.  I've never lost that joyous tingle of anticipation that I had as a child.  Although, as the oldest of a large family (there were 12 of us), I was expected to curb my excitement and help keep the younger siblings from getting too strung out, to get them settled in bed at night, counting down the sleeps.  I might have suppressed it, but, believe me, it was well and truly there.  

It was never about the gifts because what we received wasn't very impressive when compared to some others but we were aware that another family in our street received the same sort of gifts that we did but we had a father and they didn't.  So we knew we were better off by far.  We knew their presents came from Legacy, a wonderful Australian institution that supports Australian Defence Force families to carry on with their lives after the loss or injury of their loved one.  We remembered being told Mr Cook had died from injuries suffered during the war and the sorrow we felt for the Cook kids.  We knew something was wrong when the nuns asked the Cook children to return home as we finished our morning assembly at school.  We didn't call it that, can't remember what it was called but it happened at the start of the school day and it had never happened before for children to be told to go back home.  Imagine those children, I think 4 of the 6 children had started school, walking the mile back home.  Surely they wondered what was going on.  I often think about that.

(Getting off the track a bit but my father became the Cook kids' substitute father figure when one of them played up.  Mrs Cook would send one of her brood up the street with a note for Dad telling him what the naughty child had done and expecting him to provide the discipline she found difficult.  Dad hated doing it but saw it as his Christian duty.  He was a very good man!)

Somewhere along the line I must have been gifted a doll.  I don't remember that happening but I do remember opening a gift of hand made clothes for my doll, made from the same material as one of my grandmother's dresses.  I adored my Gran and couldn't have been more thrilled.  I can imagine my mother and Gran having a chat and Gran offering to lighten the load for my mother by making me some doll's clothes.  I don't know if my daughters realize how I loved making the time to make clothes for their dolls, I always thought of it as the biggest possible expression of love.  I was a busy mum when they were young but at least I still had good eyesight and could sew after they were in bed at night, something that would be out of the question now.

Today I did my grocery shopping for Christmas. Such a tame build up compared to when I was a child and the excitement would go up a notch on Christmas Eve as Gran called for volunteers to help catch and kill the ducks and hens we would feast on.  It wasn't really volunteering, when Gran said, "Who's coming to help?" it was like a royal command and I just can't imagine anyone refusing.  Gran would be prosecuted by SPCA these days.  First of all there would be mayhem in the chookhouse as we chased and caught prospective victims and took them to Gran for inspection.  I swear she vetoed the first five or six presented to her just for the fun of it.  The final decision made, she'd then have one of us hold the duck or chook over the chopping block while she chopped off its head.  I was glad when one of the others was old enough to undertake that task, it seemed like I'd had to do it forever.  Then she'd let the bird free to run around without it's head until it dropped, by which time we would have scattered far and wide - up on the shed roof, down the gully beside the house, out into the cow paddock, up the back to the cow shed.  And Gran would be having a great old laugh.  

When we felt it was safe to return, we'd get on with the plucking and gutting of the birds.  I didn't mind the gutting, it was easy enough to close my eyes, pretend I couldn't smell it and get on with it but I absolutely hated plucking.  The monotony of it!

The thrill of Christmas was about having that special sit down hot feast in the middle of the day (in the heat of Queensland summer) with all of us and our grandparents, uncles and aunts and cousins.  Christmas pudding with coins to be discovered and Gran's homemade icecream.  Doing the dishes after the meal with everyone in good spirits, then a quiet time before a swim in the creek - if we were lucky and there had been recent rain.  Cricket in the paddock beside the house followed by the first watermelons of the annual crop.  Other relatives arriving during the afternoon to visit for a while, laughter, happiness.  And the perfect end to the perfect day was one of the uncles playing the mouth organ (harmonica), the farm dogs howling their objection noisily and then, if we were very lucky, we'd hear dingoes howling back up in the mountains at the back of the house.

I don't think a Christmas has gone by since those wonderful days of my childhood without me remembering the dingoes howling.  It's a sound I've never heard since but one I carry with me still.

I took a photo on the way home from the supermarket.  It was a dull, overcast day.  The freshly mowed hay paddocks add a patchwork effect.

And look, fresh tomatoes for Christmas.  I am now enjoying the first of this year's crop.  Not quite the same as watermelon!  I got a bit over-excited at its size of the first one and picked it too soon. 

I send Christmas greetings to you all.  I do hope you have a happy day wherever you are, especially if your celebrations are effected by Covid. 

We cannot change the direction of the winds but we can adjust the sails.

I'm linking to Betty's My Corner of the World. 

Colours of the season

My blog is turning into episodes of, "That was the week that was." I'll try to channel David Frost and be entertaining.  That, in itself, is funny.  

Can you believe that show was taped in the early 60s?  The episode I just watched on You Tube would be seen as dreadfully offensive these days.

I stretched my corner of the world this week to include Warkworth and Matakana, about a 1.5 hour drive from here.  Except the return journey took an extra half hour because of roadworks on the highway.  we are learning to live with roadworks lately, there sure are a lot of them around here.  One day we might end up with some decent roads.  Some hope!

With the coming of the warm weather of summer our farms are starting to look a bit dry but we aren't as dry as around Matakana.

If you can ignore the dry grass, it's a lovely time of year for flowering trees and gardens that have acces to plenty of water.

On Monday, to avoid the roadworks, I came home from town via an alternative route and stopped at a little cafe I like in Maungatapere for a late lunch.  The Office Cafe is in the building which once housed the office of a dairy factory.  I remember it from its operating days. It closed in the mid 80s and now houses a car museum and several other businesses.

On a wall outside the cafe sits this cute, brightly painted little children's book exchange.

Just up the road from the cafe I pulled off the road to take a photo of this jacaranda.  I can never see a jacaranda without thinking of where I grew up in Brisbane, Australia.  You'd think jacarandas were native to the area the way they thrive there, the climate must be very similar to that of south-central South America.  They don't grow quite so profusely here but still catch the eye.

 

While I was stopped taking the photo I noticed a street off the highway I'd never ventured into before so took another detour.  And was rewarded with another sight that reminded me of home except this Bougainvillea was very well behaved.  My favourite memory of them is an old abandoned farmhouse on the roadside going to my grandparents' farm and watching it being devoured, year by year, by a riot of red until there was no sign that once there had been a home there.  It's another native of South America that found Queensland to its liking.

The agapanthus in the foreground originally came from southern Africa and floourishes here.  I made the mistake of planting some years ago, then being told they are an invasive weed and a major threat to native plants.  It took years to get rid of them and I once broke a spade trying to dig one out.  They do look lovely, though, at this time of year when they line the roadsides for miles on end and when they can be kept under control in a lovely garden like this one.

I'm an old misery, talking about things that come from somewhere else when all around us at the moment are flowering pohutukawa our very own New Zealand Christmas tree.  Note to self - stop next time you go past the school and take a decent photo of one.

 Linking to Betty's My Corner of the World. 

Abundance

'Tis the season of abundance.  In the garden and in the fields.  I don't know how much lettuce I thought one person could ever need but I just know if we'd only planted one or two plants they would have died.  Luckily my daughter in law has a few catering jobs at the moment so can use most of the crop.  The rest goes to our little community Sharing Shed.

Everywhere you look along the roadsides there are bales of hay and silage.  This scene caught my eye during the week as it has so much more than usual going on.  The cars in the middle ground are at the rifle range, the cows are totally ignoring the sound of gunfire.

 

 

I'm linking to My Corner of the World.

A changed outlook

A last look at the lovely trees along the fence I share with my neighbour.  They had warned me that the arborist would be coming to trim their trees, that their chainsaws and mulcher might be a bit noisy.   

I successfully ignored the noise until lunch time and was then alarmed when I looked out the window and saw the workers surveying their handiwork on the avocado tree.  I've never seen a pruned avocado before but I'm not convinced that's how one should look.

Now the outlook from my kitchen window to my corner of the world is very different. 

In other news I've now had two visits to a lovely young osteopath and my body is much more at ease.  The horrible fuzzsy head has disappeared completely, the aches and pains are back to normal and, dare I say it? I think my back could be better than before.

I'm linking to My Corner of the World.

Where the road takes you

I almost didn't notice the flowers on the banana tree, they are so subtle - and so pretty.  We were pulling out of the carpark at The Gallery and Cafe at Helena Bay where we'd enjoyed a leisurely browse through the gallery and gardens.  I had to fire off a quick shot through the car window as the little parking lot was very crowded and we didn't want to cause a traffic jam out in the middle of nowhere.

The gallery has some beautiful pieces of artwork (at quite reasonable prices) and the hand made jewelry is stunning.  Unfortunately the piece that took my eye is a little beyond my means.

While we were there it was dismal and rainy, not the best for seeing the lush subtropical gardens and magnificent bush and sea views.   We couldn't even see the sea but it's there I assure you.

  Can you make out her eggs in the wire nest below her?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I preferred this view through the trees, it looked more life like.

We must go back again when the sun is shining.  It was a bit too cool to sit on the cafe deck and take in the view while appreciating the very good food.  It's only about a 45 minute drive from here along the scenic coastal route north to Russell.  Rather than turn left to return home when we left, we decided to turn right and check out a couple of favourite beaches, it's only another hour to Russell.  

Russell was sparkling, warm in the sunshine.  It's a nice time of year to visit as it can get terribly busy in summer.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were lucky, the car ferry to Opua was about to depart but the lovely lass who takes your fare waited for us to come on board.  A short ride  and just over an hour later we were back at my turnoff.

Don't ask me what the big gaps in my post is all about.  I've fiddled and fiddled and can't get rid of them.  

I'm linking to My Corner of the World.

When one falls

Gosh, that tumble shook me up.  The external injuries - the wrist, elbow and humongous bruise on my thigh - are practically healed but, oh boy, does my poor old body hurt.  Even my brain is suffering.  The doc thinks I have a mild concussion from the jolting as I hit the ground.  So just smile and be patient if I make even less sense than usual.  I've always thought of myself as a tough old bird but it seems I'm getting soft in my old age.

And you want to know the worst, the very, very worst  bit?  Almost overnight I've become less confident.  I've always been quite proud of being pretty fearless when it comes to facing life, I've never been concerned about living alone either here in New Zealand where there are few things to fear or when I lived alone in the bush in North Queensland where the snakes could be life threatening if you accidentally tangled with them.  If anyone has any tips on how I regain that confidence, please let me know.  I do no want to become risk averse from fear.  Neither do I want to fall again.

I was lucky this time, there was someone else around which isn't usual most of the time I am at the lodge.  I was walking and turning to wave goodbye to someone when I tripped, otherwise no-one would have known I'd fallen.  I would have been OK even if no-one had been there but it was nice to have a gentle, caring soul come to my assistance and render first aid, a trained first-aider no less.  Thank you, Nicky.

When I was living in Nth Queensland, as mentioned above, I fell off a ladder while trimming trees overhanging the driveway to the house.  I broke a couple of ribs and was so knocked about I couldn't get to my feet.  The fall happened about 4 o'clock on a Saturday and I figured if I didn't turn up for work on the Monday the boss would ask the man who lived out past my place to call in to see if I was OK.  I wouldn't starve to death in that time, it was summer so not cold at night, I was in the shade so the sun shouldn't hurt me too much, I'd survive.  It was a terrible night laying there, the night noises of creatures moving around was really scarey.  I even imagined that creepy crawlies crawled over me.  I tried over and over to crawl towards the house but just couldn't do it.  

Then luck was on my side.  The neighbour's driveway was on the other side of the trees I was trimming and they were in the habit of shutting their roadside gate.  Their house was quite some distance away.  Early Sunday morning they drove down the drive to go to church and heard me calling out when the wife got out of the car to open the gate.  The gate was about 50 metres from where I was, and if there had been traffic on the road, they would not have heard me.  Believe me, I was awfully glad to see them and didn't give a toss that I had grass and twigs in my hair, dirty clothes or anything else when they helped me into the A & E Dept at the hospital.  The lovely couple came back after their church service (and no doubt many prayers on my behalf) and took me home again after I'd been patched up.  I still have one rib that hasn't been broken at one time or another.  I guess ribs are my Achilles' heel.

I'm managing to move around enough to look after, Lexis, my 4 year old great-granddaughter for a few hours yesterday and today.  Her company does me the world of good.  Although I wasn't quite so impressed with her when I was awakened at 5 am by my alarm clock ringing - and it wasn't on my bedside table.  She loves dress ups and always chooses the same things.  First she gets my little red handbag, then she puts in it a silver sparkly necklace, a little coin purse and my little alarm clock.  She knows where to find these things, I don't have to help any more.  Then comes my blue sun hat, a yellow scarf and a pair of my shoes. 

So you know where this is going, right?  

When she tidied up she put the purse back on the stand, the alarm was wrapped in the scarf still in the purse which was zipped close and some distance from my bed.  My sleepy befuddled brain just could not figure out what that faint beeping noise was or where it was coming from.  So tidying up in future will include putting everything back to where it belongs.

Make hay while the sun shines

Summer weather has arrived, it's time to make hay.  

To be honest it was the wide open gate that first caught my eye, bales of hay are a common sight around the countryside at the moment.  Open roadside gates aren't. I guess the contractor knew those big bales weren't going anywhere.

 

I always feel disappointed when I take a photo and the outcome is not what I have seen.  Even if I had been able to get closer or been able to zoom in more, you probably wouldn't see the sentinels standing guard on the horizon or notice the gaps where a couple of them had skipped guard duty.  I do so miss having a child around who believes my silly stories and finds wonder in the imagination.

 

I'm reminded of going for a walk on the farm one day with Georgia before she started school and her telling me a story she had made up when suddenly she stopped walking and talking, then explained she didn't know what happened next cause she couldn't find it in her 'magination'.  "It's only a tiny thing", she said, "about as big as a nit so it's hard to find things sometimes." 

Several years later when she was 8 or 9 Georgia was in a creative writing class and each week would work on similes.  She'd come running in from the school bus on Wednesday afternoons and announce the word of the week, then try to include that word in all our conversations using different descriptive words until she was happy.  "Scared" , gave her great difficulty, then she came in one day announcing "I've got it.  As scared as ducks on the pond on the opening morning of shooting season."  No doubt her teacher understood.

I was so proud last week when I went with her parents to Georgia's school prizegiving where she received two awards, one was for Excellence in English. 

Some of you will remember her as a little child and here she is, the self appointed Golden Girl of Letterland (in 2009), 17 years old already.

Another grand-daughter, Jami who is at university in Wellington turns 22 today.  And my baby grand-daughter in Brasil is 7 months old.  I don't even say out loud how old my oldest grandson is.  I took a tumble a few days ago and today am feeling a bit sore and sorry for myself.

I'm linking to My Corner of the World.

 

Swan plant and tea tree

Our manuka (tea tree) is currently in full bloom, its snowy white flowers are adding colour to the forest.

 

I can guiltily remember, when I first arrived in New Zealand, decimating a couple of trees to use the branches as kindling to light the fire.  Blame my Kiwi relatives-in-law who told me tea tree was a bit of a pest.  As I'd never lit a fire in an open fireplace in my life until then, I really appreciated how reliable it was as a fire starter.  Thankfully, these days I am a little more enlightened and appreciate the tree as the source of manuka honey with its antiviral, anti-inflammatory and antioxidant benefits. 

I don't know how I've never noticed the pretty little flowers on swan plants.  I picked up a twig that had been knocked off by a passing car.  There are a dozen or so plants lining the drive to my house, self sewn according to my neighbour. 

It won't be long and the caterpillars will come along.

A day for cows

Sometimes there are no animals at all to be seen alongside the road when I drive to the lodge.  Other days I give thanks if I have time to stop and take a photo of grazing cows or sheep.  On the day I took these photos, in the morning the cows were strung out along the little creek which is hard to make out in this shot.

  

On my return a few hours later they had moved towards the trees.

I'm linking to My Corner of the World.

Cracker night

All the debate about Guy Fawkes/Bonfire/fireworks night aside who doesn't enjoy a good fireworks display?  As well as being spectacular to look at, they give an opportunity for communities and families to come together to have some fun.

Our local fire brigade is manned by volunteers who give their time to keep our community safe.  Last night they gave even more time to organise a fireworks display and I suspect inspired a few firefighters of the future.  While we waited for darkness to come they gave rides to the children in the firetruck, lights flashing, sirens blasting.  

No admittance charge although they accepted gold coin donations which in our currency is one or two dollars.   It was an extremely generous gift to the community.

 The spectators gathering on the other side of my fence.

 

At the Sports Club my daughter-in-law and two of my grand-daughters were hard at work in the kitchen preparing takeaways.

 

The firemen were on duty throughout the evening manning the hoses just in case there was a stray spark.  It was a warm, still evening so perfect conditions for it.

 Reflections in my bedroom window

This is a lively little community and from where I am situated I get to see or hear most of what is happening around me.  Two days a week I delight in the sound of pre-school children playing not far away at the Play Centre.  I often hear excited cheering from the small three teacher primary school, can usually tell when it's lunch time.  It's far enough away that I can hear the childrens' voices (a sound I love) but not be disturbed or distracted by them. All the sporting events happen at the Sports Grounds more or less next door to me.  This morning it's cricket.  Shame about the burnt out remains for the bonfire but it will grow back.

 

Wet wood

One of the big differences I notice living in the township is that bad weather is not very noticeable.  I guess it is the protection provided by neighbouring houses and trees.  The weather is the same but it feels very different here - milder.  

There was a heavy rain warning out for today, there has been a fair bit of gentle rain, maybe the heavy stuff fell elsewhere.  My fence is one of the indicators I have of how much rain there has been.

The fence before heavy rain

The first sign this morning that the rain had started overnight

A huge collection of pallets was dropped off in the paddock on the other side of the house.  It had me puzzled for a while until I remembered there is to be a fireworks display tomorrow night for Guy Fawkes night, I guess that will be the bonfire.  I associate a bonfire with old fallen trees pushed to a reasonably accessible spot, maybe a few offcuts of timber and the odd piece of unwanted furniture.  The townie version looks quite different but I daresay it will all look the same once it is burning.  I hope the sun comes out to dry the stack out tomorrow or the local volunteer fire brigade who are putting on the fireworks display will have to show us a few tricks.

I do realize there's no logic in having a celebration to commemorate a bloke who tried to blow up the British parliament in the umpteenth century, there never was but that didn't stop us from loving bonfire night when we were kids, although we never had a bonfire as lighting big fires in November in Queensland would have been asking for trouble.   

A box of matches did the trick for us and a few boy scout type kids would light a small fire, not too big and not too many because we had a healthy respect for Mr Rafter, known to all as the boss of our venue.  And it was the venue that was the major attraction.  All the kids gathered on the wide expanse of lawn in the front of the local cemetery and the reflections of the fireworks on the headstones were spectacular.  I'm so thankful I was a child when I was and where I was.

(The date was moved to avoid bushfire season to May, Queen Victoria's birthday and was known by different names, then it sort of fizzled out in Queensland.)  The fizzle is a bit slower here, but they are becoming a thing of the past.  Only one major city in New Zealand is having a free public fireworks display this year.

I know one day fireworks will more than likely be banned as there are too many idiots torturing animals and setting fire to things (the world needs more Mr Rafters) and sadly, I agree that is what should happen.  

I feel sad that the times I grew up in are long gone when, generally, people (even children) could be trusted not to be total morons when it came to consideration of others.  For me it was always about getting together with my brothers and sisters and our mates for a bit of fun and learning a bit about fire safety along the way.  It was a big deal when we graduated from our own back yard with Mum and Dad to the cemetery.  We knew not to burn up too much of the lawn, and to pick up what we could find of the burnt out crackers or we wouldn't be allowed back the next year.  Consequences.